Saturday, February 27, 2010

We took a stroll to our favorite Japanese restaurant again for lunch. Even though I stayed awake for the whole meal this time, they still wouldn't let me have any sushi. Let me tell you, eating baby glop with chopsticks is tricky.

Friday, February 26, 2010

After six weeks of quarantine to keep me healthy for surgery, Mom and Dad finally took me to visit my friends in the Minimum Security Daycare Facility. My room's been completely rearranged, and some of my friends are walking! And had birthdays! Next time I see them Zian will probably be shaving.

In the past week, I've lost 12 oz. This is knocks me down 5 points on the weight chart, but puts me back in the bowling league. I'm pretty sure this has less to do with getting my back all carved up and more to do with needing to eat more yummy big-people food. More ice cream, Mom!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The 9-month checkup is the best one ever. No shots! After looking me over briefly, Dr. Griffin told Mom and Dad that I'm perfect and they need to feed me lots more big-people food. Well, duh. I told them that, but did they believe me? Just another example of credential inflation in our society when it takes a MD to say what a baby knows.

Plus, at this "9-month" checkup I'm 5 days shy of 10 months. Those doctors aren't as clever as they think they are.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Now I know why big people don't eat mushy food from little jars. Baby food is bland! Well, your grand conspiracy has been found out. I decree that all baby food henceforth be seasoned with cilantro and basil. The baby food people will have a new best friend forever if they can figure out how to put chicken saltimbocca in a jar.

If it looks like soap, smells like soap, tastes like soap and makes you gag when you swallow it like soap, then it must be... Colace! I want to get my ducky and see what happens when I toss today's dose in a tub of water.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Uncle Jesse and Auntie K brought dinner to Mom and Dad as a welcome-home gift. For me, they brought books, toys, Rebecca, and Penelope. After six weeks of precautionary quarantine before the surgery, it was a real treat to play with my friends again. Thanks also to Auntie K for writing the message on the front step.

It's nice that my house missed me while I was gone. After four days in the hospital, it's back to the peace and quiet of home. No PA announcements, no wires, no beeping EKGs, no 4AM temperature-takings, no doting nurses, no Nubain IV drips, no television... can I go back to the hospital?

They're cool with me puking all over, pulling out my IV, repeatedly pulling the oxygen sensor off my toe, and yanking the EKG leads off my chest. But the minute I start to climb the walls of my crib, they toss me out.

Mom didn't have surgery. How come she gets to ride in the chair? So unfair.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The thing about hospitals is, they're boring. Even when they'll let you sit up a little, once you've flirted with the nurses, thoroughly examined your glowing red toe, and determined that the Olympics aren't on yet, there's not much to do. Oh well, at least Zoe will play with me.

I got up early because I had two important things on my agenda. First, the nurse took out my catheter. I don't want to make my diaper wet, because I don't like being jostled when they change it. But I'm not about to ask the nurse to put the catheter back in.

Second, I got to cuddle in Mom's arms! I napped there while she sat, bleary-eyed, carefully keeping all the tubes and wires out of my way. But I took advantage of her sleepiness and pulled that annoying IV out of my foot when she put me down. No luck, though: the nurse noticed and hooked me up by the backup IV in my hand. Foiled again!

My friend Jennifer came to visit. It was nice to see another familiar face besides Mom and Dad. She brought food, but it wasn't allowed in the PICU because there wasn't enough for everyone. I hope Dad will sneak some string bean chicken into my bottle.

Cousin Yash and his family sent me a bunch of shiny, floaty balloons. With the pain meds I'm on, I float just like they do. Mom helpfully tied one where I can see it without moving. I don't like to move much right now.

They thought I wasn't paying attention when Dr. Peng came to check on me this morning, but I heard every word. "This is as good as it gets," he said. What?! OK, I'm allowed to rest on my front now, and the improved thumb access is certainly appreciated. But I can't possibly achieve world domination until they give me back my clothes.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

The surgery was a complete success. Now there's something stuck to my back, and it hurts when I move. I have pressure and tape-allergy marks on my face and electrodes all over my torso. There are IVs or sensors on both feet and one hand. I'm so swollen with IV saline that my ID anklet is digging into my leg, my eyelids are too puffy for me to open my eyes, and my "innie" has become an "outie". I haven't eaten in 19 hours. I have a catheter going places I don't want to think about. But what really irks me is, my diaper's too small!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Tomorrow's the big day. It boggles my baby mind, but they always say what the condemned eat for their last meal. If you ever find yourself in that situation, I recommend spoon. Crisp, delicious -- and it takes a really long time to eat.

I'm done teething for the moment, so the surgeons decided this is a good time to finally have me visit for a few days. I have to be in Oakland, an hour away, at 7:00 tomorrow morning. I'm glad I get to sleep most of the day after that.

Rebecca, Penelope, and their parents packed up all their stuff and moved out today. I guess the disappointment of not being able to play with me for the last six weeks was too great for them to bear. It's a lot quieter around here, and I don't have to share my toys, but I still miss them. Rebecca was always good for a laugh, and I could flaunt my seniority at Penelope.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Mom and Dad got me this new chair so I don't have to gnaw on restaurant highchairs anymore. I don't want a pre-chewed chair any more than you want pre-chewed food. (I do, as it happens, want pre-chewed food.)

It attaches to the table, leaving my feet dangling. I'm practicing hanging ten for next time we visit Uncle Mike in Hawaii.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Just three weeks after I first started pulling myself up, for a good enough reason I'll now cruise along the edge of a couch. In this case, the reason was Dad's camera case. Next I have to grow longer arms so I can actually reach it.

Dad's brilliant idea for having me discover the world around me, part 2: place some brightly colored candies (I believe you call them 'crayons') on a yummy piece of paper in front of me. So I do the obvious thing and put one of the candies in my mouth. Would you believe, my crazy old man takes it away and smears it on the paper. And won't let me eat either one. Complete waste of perfectly good crayon and paper. Art is stupid. Stick to playing with toys.

Dad's brilliant idea for having me discover the world around me: fill a baking dish with ice cubes and put it in front of me. So I do the obvious thing and climb in. But my hand slips on the bottom of the dish and I bang my head. Lesson for today: Science is stupid. Stick to playing with toys.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

As my palate keeps expanding, so does the list of not-for-babies foods. The earthly delights that Dad has allowed me to taste and then cruelly snatched away include such delicacies as beer, coffee, telephone wire, tea, ice cream, paper, cheeseburger, power cord, medium-spicy peanut curry, and the lowest blow of all: chocolate. Not even a screaming tantrum would bring back Big C. Believe me, I tried.

On the other hand, Dad lets me eat all I want and then some of spinach, green beans, carrots and squash. As far as I can tell, Dad himself eats only coffee, cookies and chocolate-covered raisins. Is there any justice in this universe?